I found an intriguing message on a small piece of paper in my mailbox. There was only one phone on my moshav in 1978 so the office secretary was our link to the outside world. I was used to getting these little slips of paper because I was the moshav's spokesperson and we often hosted visitors, varying from prime ministers to top journalists to big donors from various Jewish federations.
"A large group from Time magazine is coming March 26th." Time magazine? On our moshav? This was huge. I needed more information.
"It's the Time Africa/Mideast News Tour," the Israel Foreign Ministry told me. "Thirty-five of the top businessmen in America: CEOs, presidents of corporations, board chairmen. They come to see where the news is made."
"I must know who is coming," I said.
I scanned the two pages of names and positions. I should have been excited about the president of TWA, which was the only airline that flew from Israel to Los Angeles, so I always booked with them. And I should have been excited about the "names" themselves: Barron Hilton, president of Hilton Hotels Corp. Who wouldn't want connections to a Hilton? Or Henry J. Heinz II. We love their ketchup. Or chairmen and CEOs of Westinghouse, Bell and Howell, BF Goodrich, to name a few.
I think the entire masthead of Time was also on the list - nineteen Time employees including the editor-in-chief, and the chairman and CEO and editors from all departments.
But what got my full attention was the line with the name William A. Hewitt. Although I didn't recognize his name, I knew his company: John Deere. Every family on my moshav drove a green John Deere tractor. I was going to meet the CEO of our tractors!
The day of the visit, I was ready. Several mud-splattered tractors were lined up in our parking lot, but with an addition I'm sure Mr. Hewitt had never seen: steel siding. Our tractors were weighted down as protection against old Jordanian land mines.
I waited for our guests with Naftali Levi from the Israel Foreign Ministry and General Avraham Orly, Coordinator of Government Services in the Territories. I had recently hosted two United States congressmen and General Orly was there then, too.
"Galia, do you know what to do when they get here?" Naftali Levi asked.
Before I could answer him, General Orly did.
"Don't worry. We've worked together before, and she does a good job."
However, when the tour organizer, Miki, arrived that morning, she had a different plan.
"Talk for five minutes. Do not answer political questions."
I wasn't intimidated even though I knew she was influential and her husband was a well-known Time correspondent. I went to Naftali.
"I'm in charge. You do what you usually do!" he said. That was all I needed to hear. Now I took charge of my position as spokesperson and began addressing 20% of the GNP of the United States who were reporting back to President Jimmy Carter!
I spoke much longer than Miki's directive of five minutes and I answered all the political questions which affected the moshav, stressing the fact that this had been empty land—other than those land mines—before the moshav was built. I highlighted our accomplishments of turning land fallow for the last two thousand years into a thriving source of winter vegetables. I emphasized the security aspect of our being on the border with Jordan, forming a first line of defense. When the Time Deputy Chief of Correspondents Richard L. Duncan asked me to elaborate, I gave my "simplistic" explanations and added, "Gen. Orly will be speaking after me, and I'll leave the more detailed aspects to him." That worked.
When he finished his remarks, everyone mingled. I mingled with these influential CEOs and board chairmen engaging in small talk.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hilton," I said. "You know, there's no Hilton Hotel in Palm Springs."
"Don't worry," he said. "We're buying the Riviera Hotel, but no one knows that yet!" Well, my parents did when they got my detailed letter.
"Mr. Heinz. Welcome to our moshav. I miss your products." A nice chat but no offer to send us some.
I had to ask other VIPs what their company was, and they were only too happy to tell me.
"I'm president of Crocker Bank," said one and started to tell me about the bank.
"Oh, I know what it is. I used to work there," I said. I told him about my three-month experience between college and moving to Israel. He couldn't believe it. Here in the desert 9,000 miles from his office, he finds a former employee.
"If you ever move back, I have a job for you in our San Francisco office!" And he handed me his card, which I still have: Thomas R. Wilcox. He later wrote a thank you letter, repeating the offer. I guess he was impressed with my PR skills as I doubt it was based on my ability to sort checks into cubby holes.
I talked to the deputy chief of correspondents of Time-Life. I would have preferred a job offer from him, but to Time magazine, I wasn't an aspiring writer hoping to get published. I was just a good source to have in the area.
The happiest of them all was Mr. Hewitt of John Deere. He loved seeing his tractors as the buses pulled into the moshav. "How many do you have?" he asked.
"Forty."
He was in Heaven. There was something friendly, inviting about him, and I decided to add, "We have a small John Deere pedal tractor for the kindergarten children but they're always fighting over who gets to ride."
"They are? Well, I'll be happy to send you another one!" Mr. Hewitt said. "Do you have the little toy ones? I'll send those too."
Then I climbed into the driver's seat of our tractor and Mr. Hewett climbed up and stood next to me on the runner. "Suddenly all the cameras were out, and everyone was snapping away," I wrote my family.
"This is the best thing that's happened on this trip," Mr. Hewitt said.
And this is a man who was meeting presidents and prime ministers in the Middle East and Africa.
William Hewitt kept his promise. The following month we received a pedal tractor, six toy tractors, 12 toy tractor wagons, and 12 historical sets of miniature John Deere tractors. Now if only the TWA chair had been as generous with tickets!
William Hewitt was so impressed with Israel that he returned with his family that December. They joined us for lunch in our home and afterwards we gave them an extensive tour of the moshav, including the kindergarten with the toys he had sent.
Now, reading the letter I wrote after their visit, I realize that I was stronger, more aggressive than I thought I was then, after only eight years in the country. My talks were in English but my contact with officials was in Hebrew. I was fluent enough, but I didn't think I was assertive or demanding then. Apparently, I was. Just ask Miki.
She was difficult to deal with and made specific demands. We had three weeks of discussions on the phone to finalize the details, including the gift that Time would present the children. She wanted the children to greet the visitors with flags, but we rejected that idea.
They budgeted $100 and told me to pick out the gift. We didn't need a gift, but $100 budget from such a delegation? I realize now that it was from Time magazine's budget, not a donation from the guests, but what could you buy in Israel in 1978 for $100? Even toys incurred ridiculous import charges. After "a dozen phone calls," I wrote my parents, "they said I could spend 1,500 Israeli pounds, but 1,700 was okay, too.'' A dozen costly phone calls over a $100 gift. And the costly (for me) 75-kilometer drive to Jerusalem, the closest town, in search of toys. I found some for 1,500 pounds, but I wasn't about to lose that "extra" 200 they allotted us. I added items to reach their absolute limit. I bought two Lego sets, one huge Tinker toy box and a little set of Lego figures for a total of 1,740 pounds. I assume they reimbursed the extra forty.
Time magazine, General Orly and Naftali were pleased with the visit. Miki was not, probably because we didn't listen to her "demands." I didn't care. According to the Foreign Ministry, the moshav visit was the highlight of this prestigious tour. Not long after the visit, Time magazine turned to me again. But that's another story